An Artful Sort of Flirtation
by KaleidoscopeOfWords
Summary: In the middle of lust, love, and betrayal, she leaves upon his orders. She'll return, she knows she will. The real challenge, however, will be finding herself before it's too late; before she's too late. Katara


If it weren't for their unfortunate situation, it may have been awkward. Wrong. It could even have been deemed scandalous.

But their proximity didn't count for anything because both were too preoccupied with the fire that was engulfing the Fire Nation. Even though a good portion of the population were fire benders, none of them were focused on putting _out_ the fire; no, they were causing it. Civil war plagued the once-prosperous city to unimaginable heights.

If only things were different; maybe the Avatar could have prevented this from happening. In another world, that is. In this current world, he was long fed up with the Fire Nation. It was unAvatarlike, but it was true. It all had to do with the two people who were experiencing the close proximity, but the heavens forbid, they were not focused on that.

A pop amidst the orange tendrils sent sparks flying; the girl pressed her back closer to the man who stood behind her and produced a feeble, thin sheet of water that halted the bits of fire. As a result, flecks of steam dotted the air, and her water shrank even more.

"I told you, save that for a situation that's unavoidable," the man directed her through gritted teeth, one hand stretched in front of both of them, the other curled around the waist of his companion. When she opened her mouth for a reply, he dragged her back, and she erupted into a fit of coughs. Pulling her down next to him, he turned her toward him and wiped the ashes from her face. Tears had left tracks down her cheeks; she was not crying, but the smoke was suffocating her emotionally and physically.

"I need to be out fighting with them," he told her firmly, his eyes carefully switching from her face to behind her and to the sides, making sure none of the violence would reach them. "These are my people. It's not exactly ideal that you're here at the moment, so if I can just get you to – "

"I can help!" exclaimed the girl ignorantly, as she tied back her dark hair into a knot at the base of her neck. She then unconsciously made a face and swallowed, trying to repress another cough. It eventually broke through.

"You aren't used to this like we are," he told her, gentleness lost from his tone. "If you can just get to the harbor, I can make sure you get home safely. This isn't your war."

She struggled to make ends meet in her mind, her eyes showing she wanted desperately to say something. The rawness in her throat made her voice weak. "You're here. That makes it my war too. I thought we already decided…"

Her voice trailed off as she read his face, and the heart in her chest dropped.

"These are not the circumstances in which I can continue this… this…"

"It's not an _affair_, Zuko! I thought we agreed to be friends until you formally separated with her. We haven't done anything wrong. We talked about this."  
"You don't understand that these are not the right times now. My nation needs a strong leader, not someone immersed in his personal life." Before she could object, his eyes focused on her. One scarred eye could not distract from the burning sensation that he caused her to have when looking at her in that moment. "And you don't understand, Katara… just being in your presence, I'm being unfaithful. The things that I think from every touch… I tell her half as much as I tell you, if that."

The bitter disappointment than pulsed through her veins did not let up at that comment. They were supposed to be together. She had restrained herself and then through that restrained him from doing anything that would question his morals for the sake of him. If it wasn't for her, they'd be involved in an affair right now! She had been the one declining his kisses, telling him that the future would be clearer if he just waited. And he went along with it, promising her, and now this. Rejection in the face. Her stomach twisted now. The smoke, the heat, the betrayal – she was going to be sick.

Something burst behind her and suddenly debris was everywhere but on her body, which was shielded by the man above her. She heard his intake of breath and knew he was hurt. They were wasting – _he _was wasting – precious time hiding to keep her safe. He braced himself with his hands on either side of her figure as he bent over in pain. His forehead came to rest on her knees. This was selfish and stupid, no matter what he was saying to her. She was better than that.

Making an impulsive decision, she unscrewed the lid from the pouch at her side and bent the remaining water onto her hands. Feeling for the wounds, she healed them with urgency, feeling his breathing and assessing him next, and finally, she found her hands beginning to shake as they began to feel for his face. Clumsily, she grasped it in her hands.

"I'm going to the harbor. I know where I'm going. You have to make things right here, and I can't help you anymore. I'd be a target and keeping me safe would be suspicious."

She couldn't read his eyes, the flashing fear and guilt and urgency within them. She didn't know if he had lied to her about what he said earlier to get her to leave, or if he meant them. She didn't know if she'd ever know. What was coming next wasn't questionable; it was what had to be done for the sake of the nation this man ruled.

Bombs were heard in the distance, there was screaming, there was so much noise from the chaos that it was hard to ignore. But in the next moment, she managed to do just that.

He was all over her in that next moment, and in that moment, she didn't have to power to decline. She kissed him back willingly, passionately, and it was so much more beautiful and heartbreaking than their first and only kiss before that in which they had been young and foolish. His hands touched her everywhere as if he was trying to memorize her body in the last aching moments that she knew they had. Finally, she had to break away, and his lips slid to her neck where they placed one gentle kiss before his forehead replaced them. She didn't have to look to know that he was crying as she was, her tears thicker and faster than the ones that had been caused by the smoke.

"Come back," he insisted then, his eyes coming to meet her's. "Please, I can't… The war. It won't last longer than a year, probably not even half that. The whole nation's almost gone. But a year. If you can find somewhere to wait, just promise, six months, and meet me at the palace, or whatever is left. I'll be there, I just, it's going to, I – "

A tremor racked the ground they occupied. Her arms gripped his, and she nodded. It was to hard to comprehend, too rushed to find any flaws or make any objections to what ridiculous statement was leaving his mouth. She nodded.

And then he grabbed her, dragged her nearly at a rapid pace, weaving through the flames until they reached a place that was within sight of a path that wound through a feeble forest. Shoving her towards it, he gave her a long look before turning and racing back the way he came.

She knew where to go from there. With an ache inside of her that pulsed in her stomach, she slipped into the shadows, her eyes set on the harbor, headed back for the place that she knew she'd never be happy.

**xx prologue, something at that. yes, no, anticipating the first chapter? let me know. **


End file.
